A Fragile Design (8 page)
Bella nodded. ‘‘But my mother finally gave in to my father’s wishes and signed the papers. The three of us lived separately—Father in the Brothers’ Order and Mother in the Sisters’ Order. I was in the Children’s Order until I was fourteen, when I signed my papers and went into the Sisters’ Order. By then my mother was very ill and only the physician and the nursing sister were permitted to see her. And so our separation continued. When she died a short time later, I was told that shedding tears was inappropriate behavior. My father offered no comfort nor did he appear saddened at her death. When I asked my father how he could choose to stay with the Believers rather than live in the world with his family, he said the Believers’ way was easier.’’
Miss Addie gasped. ‘‘Easier?’’
‘‘Yes. It wasn’t his deep level of religious belief that caused him to remain but the fact that he enjoyed the lack of responsibility living among the Believers afforded him. He didn’t like the commitment of being responsible for a family.’’
‘‘Dear me. No wonder you’ve come to such a conclusion. But you must remember, child, that you’ve judged all mankind upon one man’s actions,’’ Addie countered.
A lump rose in Bella’s throat. ‘‘Two, if you count Jesse.’’
Taylor glanced over his shoulder toward number 5 Jackson Street as he hurried off toward his meeting. The spirited girl from New Hampshire was provoking his thoughts. A pretty young woman—at least she would be if she’d wear some proper apparel and fix her hair in a more becoming style, he decided. He’d never met a girl quite like her. She certainly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Even when he’d flashed his sapphire blue eyes at her, she’d continued on with her arguments as though she conversed with astonishingly handsome Englishmen every day of her life.
‘‘Amazing!’’ he murmured, shaking his head as he entered the meeting room.
‘‘What’s amazing?’’ John Farnsworth inquired. ‘‘That you’re over half an hour late?’’
Taylor pulled out his watch and clicked open the gold case. Eight o’clock. He shook his head in wonderment. ‘‘Is the meeting over already?’’ he asked while glancing about the room. There were only a few men gathered reading books.
John nodded. ‘‘It didn’t take long to decide we needed to acquire more information before scheduling any lectures. None of us was knowledgeable about available speakers, and I didn’t think you’d had time enough to gather a list. I suggested that each of us secure a few names and topics and meet again in two weeks. I hope you don’t mind; I saw no need to continue waiting for you, and I prefer to spend my evening with Addie,’’ he said, clutching his felt top hat in one hand and walking toward the door.
Taylor turned and matched stride with his uncle. ‘‘So you’re going to Miss Addie’s now?’’
John stopped and leveled a look of concern at his nephew. ‘‘Yes. Isn’t that what I said a few moments ago? Are you sick, boy?’’ he asked and then continued walking.
‘‘No. I was wondering if you’d mind if I joined you.’’
‘‘You want to accompany me while I call on Miss Addie? Now I know you’re sick.’’
‘‘I don’t exactly want to accompany you while you’re visiting. I merely want an excuse for reappearing at the boardinghouse.’’
‘‘What for, pray tell?’’
Taylor gave his uncle a sheepish grin. ‘‘When I stopped to give Miss Addie your message, I became engaged in conversation with a young lady who is now boarding there. We didn’t have time to complete our conversation, and I thought—’’
‘‘I should have known this had something to do with another conquest,’’ John replied, shaking his head.
‘‘It’s not what you think, Uncle. Conquest, yes—but in an intellectual capacity.’’
Clasping an earlobe between his thumb and index finger, John tugged on the lobe several times in rapid succession. ‘‘Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly? You want to conquer a young lady on an intellectual level? Forgive me if I have difficulty believing such an avowal.’’
‘‘This girl is different, Uncle John. She’s from New Hampshire. Belonged to some sort of religious sect—the United Society of Believers or some such thing. I admit she’s an attractive enough girl, but it’s her philosophy that intrigues me,’’ Taylor explained.
John laughed. ‘‘I see. And just what is this intriguing philosophy?’’
‘‘She believes in equality, that men and women are equal. Actually, it was a discussion regarding the Mechanics Association that detained me. She was of the opinion that women should be entitled to use the library and attend the lectures of the association.’’
John arched his eyebrows. ‘‘That is quite a philosophy. And how did you defend your position, Taylor?’’
Taylor glanced down. ‘‘Instead of defending my position, I turned the tables on her by asking why she had left her religious group and come to Lowell if, in fact, she preferred their way of life.’’
‘‘Not an impressive argument on your part,’’ John declared.
Taylor agreed. ‘‘That’s why I want to return. Perhaps I can give Miss Newberry a worthy reply.’’
‘‘In that case, I suppose I couldn’t possibly turn down your request,’’ John said as he knocked on the front door of the boardinghouse.
Taylor straightened his coat. Since he was a small boy he’d been used to girls falling at his feet. He’d never met a woman he couldn’t intrigue and entice with a wink or a smile. Miss Newberry promised to be something of a challenge, and that idea alone was much too exciting to pass up in his otherwise dull world. Memories of his mother’s warnings against arrogance and pride filtered through a hazy veil, but he quickly ignored them. Miss Bella Newberry had rather asked for this attention, and Taylor was only too happy to comply.
The door opened and Bella stood at the threshold with a look of surprise etched upon her face. ‘‘Mr. Manning! What brings you back again so soon?’’
Bella lay still, not wanting to awaken Daughtie or Ruth before the first bell. Surely the customary clanging would soon begin. She’d wakened several hours earlier and had been unable to once again fall asleep. Her body now ached, protesting the hours she’d remained stiff and motionless, longing to stretch the cramped muscles and throbbing joints into another position. She yearned for the sound of the reverberating toll she normally detested.
‘‘Not yet,’’ Ruth groaned, pulling the covers over her head at the sound of the first bell. ‘‘I don’t want to get up.’’
‘‘You’d best hurry or Daughtie will be tugging off the covers to air them out while you’re still abed,’’ Bella warned.
Bella was already at the pitcher and washbasin, glad to be up yet aware that she would be exhausted by day’s end. However, she wouldn’t complain to Daughtie, no matter how tired she was or difficult the day might be, for Daughtie would use such talk as yet another reason they should return to the Society of Believers. Although Bella understood her friend’s discomfort with these new surroundings, she was of the opinion they both needed more time in which to make their final decisions regarding the world and its ways.
‘‘You dressed quickly,’’ Daughtie commented as she pulled back the covers on the bed to air.
‘‘I can’t find my shoes,’’ Harriet whined from across the room. ‘‘Does anyone see my shoes?’’ She held a candle at arm’s length as she scoured the room.
Daughtie shook her head. ‘‘If you’d put your belongings in their proper place when you disrobe, you’d have no difficulty finding them in the morning.’’
‘‘I don’t need a lecture, Daughtie; I need my shoes,’’ Harriet replied, her candle illuminating the cross look etched upon her face.
Shrugging her shoulders, Daughtie sat on Ruth’s trunk and brushed her hair. ‘‘You ought not expect our help. If we give you assistance, we’re merely encouraging you to continue in your slothful habits.’’
‘‘What did you call me?’’ Harriet shrieked.
Bella stepped forward and took Harriet’s arm. ‘‘Your shoes—they’re over by the window,’’ Bella said, pointing across the room.
Harriet pulled her arm from Bella’s grasp and, after one last glare at Daughtie, went to retrieve her shoes.
‘‘You could be less critical,’’ Bella whispered as she handed Daughtie a comb.
Daughtie gave her a look of consternation. ‘‘This room is too small for Harriet and Margaret to throw their things about. I’m used to orderliness and so are you. Why are you taking her side?’’
Bella pulled the sheet taut, tucked it under the mattress, then pulled up the covers. ‘‘I’m not taking her side. I’m merely trying to keep peace. I agree that the disarray makes it difficult, but harsh words among us will make this room seem much smaller than it already is. Perhaps kind words and deeds will go further with Harriet than criticism.’’
‘‘I’ll try, Bella, but she is lazy.’’
Bella grinned. ‘‘Come on. We have time for prayer and a bit of Scripture reading before the second bell. Let’s go downstairs and give the others space to finish getting ready for work.’’
By the time Bella and Daughtie completed their Bible reading and uttered a brief prayer, the other girls came racing down the steps, their thumping shoes and volubility drowning out the clang of the second bell.
‘‘I wish we could eat breakfast before going off to work,’’ Daughtie complained as they joined the group of girls hurrying out the front door.
Bella hooked arms with her friend. ‘‘We did our mending and cleaned the Brothers’ rooms before eating breakfast in Canterbury.’’
‘‘Performing routine daily chores isn’t the same as going off to work in a mill before having a bite to eat.’’
‘‘True, but leaving the mill for breakfast gives us a break and an opportunity to get out in the fresh air,’’ Bella countered.
‘‘And shovel down our meal without the time to properly chew or digest the food,’’ Daughtie shot back.
Bella grinned and gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. ‘‘It is obvious nothing I say is going to cheer you or change your mind, so I’ll permit you the last word on this topic.’’
Daughtie laughed. ‘‘I’m sorry. I sound like Sister Eunice—never willing to cease my arguing.’’
‘‘You haven’t quite reached Sister Eunice’s level, but promise you won’t make that a goal,’’ Bella said, joining in Daughtie’s laughter.
‘‘I’m pleased to see you two so cheerful this morning,’’ the overseer greeted as they entered the room. ‘‘We have several girls out sick, and I’ll need each of you to tend an extra loom.’’
‘‘So much for memorizing Scripture today,’’ Daughtie whispered as she patted her pocket.
‘‘But, Mr. Kingman, we’ve only just learned to manage one of those metal beasts. Surely you don’t expect us to capably tend two,’’ Bella replied.
‘‘You’ll do fine. Besides, I have no choice. Too many of the operatives are either ill or leaving without proper notice.’’
Bella gave Daughtie a waning smile as they walked toward their looms. ‘‘We can paste them up today. That way they’ll be ready and waiting for us tomorrow.’’ At the moment it was as much encouragement as she could offer.
‘‘If we can find time to do even that,’’ Daughtie replied. ‘‘I find it appalling they expect us to take over another loom. It’s obvious all they care about is quantity. They care little about the quality of their products or the well-being of their workers.’’
Bella nodded. She couldn’t argue with what she knew was truth. These mills were a moneymaking proposition for the owners, who were interested in a handsome profit above all else. On the other hand, the Shakers placed incomparable workmanship above all else. Reconciling the opposing concepts was not possible.
‘‘We’ll just have to do the best we can,’’ she replied as they took their places at the looms and awaited the bell’s pealing before setting their looms into motion.
Taking up the brass-tipped hollowed-out piece of wood, Bella filled it with a long thread-laden wood bobbin. Lifting the shuttle to her mouth, she sucked in, pulling the bobbin thread through the small hole near the tip of the shuttle and then set the prepared shuttle in the metal box at one end of the race before moving to the next machine and picking up the second. As she sucked the thread through the eye of the second shuttle, the bell tolled and the weaving room clamored to life.
Bella slapped the handle of her machine and watched momentarily as the shuttle carrying the weft thread flew across the race between the shed of warp threads. The reed swung forward, beating against the weft, evenly tightening the latest addition of thread against the already-woven cloth. The beam crashed up and down, raising and dropping the heddles into position as the shuttle, flying in and out of the shuttle box, continued journeying back and forth at breakneck speed. The floor reverberated as she moved back and forth between the machines, repeating her routine: replacing empty bobbins with full ones, tying a weaver’s knot when an errant thread snagged, always mindful to watch that the finished cloth was uniformly winding onto the take-up.
Glancing across the room, she took a moment to watch Daughtie moving back and forth between her two assigned machines. Her friend appeared miserable, with her face screwed into a look of anxiety as she stopped the second machine to insert a filled shuttle. A tight fist of remorse formed in Bella’s stomach. She shouldn’t have encouraged Daughtie to come with her. It had been a selfish act. If Daughtie decided she wanted to go home, Bella determined she would accompany her back to Canterbury. But she would not remain in New Hampshire herself—of that she was certain. Once Daughtie was safely delivered, she would return to Lowell and this new life by herself.
Adjusting to the world’s ways would take perseverance, but Bella was willing to accept the hurried meals, the crowded boardinghouse, the deafening noise of the mills, and the lack of privacy in exchange for the freedom to explore her beliefs and make decisions based upon those new discoveries.
Daughtie, however, was not one who questioned anything. Whatever the Society taught, Daughtie believed. But their early lives had been differently formed, Bella reasoned. While Daughtie had spent her entire life among the Brothers and Sisters, steeped in the teachings of Sister Ann and the United Society of Believers, Bella had spent her early years within the nurturing nest of her parents, who had encouraged her inquiring personality. At least until they moved to Canterbury. But unlike her father and Daughtie, Bella and her mother had never completely embraced life among the Believers.
